


Of Charades And Charlatans

by Esperata



Category: Batman (1966)
Genre: M/M, Morning After, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, dinner date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Penguin has been wracking his brains for someway to initiate things with Riddler, much to his friend Marsha's annoyance. Then fate presents him with a perfect opportunity.





	1. Chapter 1

“Marsha!”

Penguin ignored the minion who had opened the door for him. Ordinarily he would have ordered him to find his mistress but he was too impatient for that right now. Instead he waddled forward, casting his gaze rapidly back and forth in search of his familiar confidante.

“Marsha? Where _are_ you? I need to speak to you. Urgently!”

“Here darling.”

He turned in the direction of the voice and quickly shielded his eyes from the shocking glitter of jewels adorning the Queen of Diamonds. As she moved into the dimmer lighting of her reception room he was able to look once again.

“Marsha my dear,” he began eagerly. “You will not believe what has happened!”

She remained unconcerned as she situated herself on her chaise lounge.

“Has Riddler finally condescended to speak to you?” she hazarded.

Penguin’s features settled into a frown even as he deposited himself in a nearby chair.

“Must you always be so caustic?” He drew himself together. “And what makes you assume I’m here to talk about him?”

“Darling,” Marsha drawled looking at him fondly. “You _always_ come to me to talk about him.”

“That’s not true! I talked to you about my motion picture scheme.”

She nodded her acknowledgement but didn’t lose her teasing smile.

“So, are you telling me this discussion is not going to feature the Prince of Puzzles?”

Her guest shifted awkwardly in his chair and avoided her gaze. She rolled her eyes.

“Honestly ever since that business with the submarine you’ve been pining obsessively over him.”

“I can’t help it! He’s just so _perfect_ for me. Don’t you agree?”

Marsha shrugged and focused on rearranging the folds of her skirt. This did nothing to dissuade Penguin though.

“How many people share so much in common as we do?” he continued. “I may be able to discuss criminal capers with any number of villainous associates, and literature and the arts with various members of morally dubious high society, but there’s no-one else I can discuss _both_ with. No-one else on my intellectual level in our felonious fraternity.”

“Well thank you very much!”

“Oh, my dear lady.” Penguin leant forward to take her hand and kiss the back. “You know I was not considering my sisters in sin. All of you are of the very highest calibre. Simply not my area of particular interest.”

Marsha rolled her eyes again but smiled indulgently.

“Yes. I know,” she agreed with no small degree of amusement.

“You must concede he is attractive,” Penguin continued, his attention drifting. “Such a lithe form. So energetic. Full of vim and vigour-”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted briskly. “I am well aware of how well Riddler fulfils your particular area of interest. I don’t need to hear any more about it.”

Penguin sat back with a frown.

“Don’t you want to hear my news?”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Well… no,” Penguin admitted and Marsha threw up her hands.

“This whole thing is getting ridiculous,” she complained. “You come here week after week to lament about your hopeless situation and week after week I give you the same advice.” She leant forward with a challenging look.

Penguin fidgeted but duly muttered.

“I should talk to him.”

“And do you?” Marsha continued haughtily. “No. You come back to tell me he has a new jacket, or a new moll, or to work yourself into a tizzy because you haven’t heard word of him. Penguin, darling, just talk to him already or find someone else to charm into bed.”

“This isn’t just about bedding someone!” He stood up indignantly. “I have charmed heiresses and countesses and actresses-”

“None of whom interest you in the least. You can be utterly charming,” she smiled softly at him, “but you’re hopeless when actual feelings are involved.”

He slumped back into his seat.

“I don’t know why I talk to you at all,” he groused.

“Because there’s no-one else who won’t judge you for your predilection for men,” Marsha replied honestly. She regretted it a moment later as she saw his depression begin to kick in.

Asides from his awkwardness facing his feelings, and his deeply hidden insecurities over his physical attributes, was the much more apparent fear of social chastisement if his sexual preferences became known. Although they had both noted Riddler’s complete ease of flirting with either gender there was also the fear that he would still despise Penguin for responding in kind. Riddler didn’t actually _choose_ to flirt after all, it was just how he was, and he might not appreciate direct flirting back.

“Come now.” Marsha reached out and clasped his hand encouragingly. “You had something to share?”

The reminder had the immediate effect of brightening his spirits.

“Yes! It’s quite unbelievable. You’ll never guess.”

She reclined back with a resigned tolerance.

“I doubt I will,” she agreed, trying to show patience and reign in her sarcasm.

“Some imposter has been impersonating Riddler!”

There was a pregnant pause as she absorbed that statement.

“What do you mean?” she eventually asked, leaning forward again despite herself.

Penguin exuded smug satisfaction at her interest.

“You saw the threat on television about the police headquarters?” he queried, receiving a nod before continuing. “Well, that was not the Riddler we know and love.” He flustered slightly at his phrasing and quickly pressed on. “I was sure that Riddler was still out of town so I took a closer look. The law enforcement officers in this city are utterly _dreadful_. They see the outfit and that’s enough proof for them.” He frowned indignantly.

“It was creepy. You know our Riddler. Always full of mirth and joy de vivre. This second rate pretender only laughed on the surface. Underneath was nothing but a well of darkness.” He shuddered only partly mock theatrically. “An unrepentant heathen with no idea of fun. Rumour has it he’s even a high school drop-out.” He sniffed derisively before adding, “Shameless poser.”

Marsha had listened in honest surprise at the revelation but now she began to question.

“How did you find out that? I know that piece of trivia wasn’t on any broadcast.”

“I’m a resourceful bird.”

“Meaning you’ve been stalking him.”

“Not at all. It’s hardly stalking when the information is readily available to someone with the right resources.”

“And the time and inclination to spend on checking security footage and interrogating henchmen,” Marsha suggested teasingly.

“We’re getting away from the point,” Penguin complained.

Marsha shrugged.

“So? I don’t see what the point exactly is. Someone played at being Riddler for a day. They got caught. Even the dullards at law will eventually realise they have a separate puzzler on their hands. It’s interesting certainly but hardly very relevant to us.”

“It’s of the greatest relevance,” Penguin insisted. “Don’t you see? This is my chance to open a friendly communication with Edward Nygma.” He couldn’t help his sigh at the name.

“I don’t follow you.”

He sat forward in his chair excitedly.

“Tomorrow the GCPD will transfer their prisoner to the court for the trial. It will be child’s play to take him off their hands. Then I can present him in a gift box for our dear Riddler upon his return as a gesture of esteem."

She arched an eyebrow at the proposed plan.

“And you’re sure he won’t take offence at you interfering?”

“That’s the beauty of it! With him currently not in a position to act, surely a Rogue of standing and respect such as myself is duty bound to step in and remind people that our MOs are not to be trifled with?”

“You make a valid point,” Marsha conceded. “So, you’ll kidnap this pretender, present him to Riddler, and then… what? Await a heartfelt thank you and hope it leads somewhere?”

“I admit I cannot entirely anticipate how Riddler will react. But I am sure he will want to speak to me and isn’t that what you’ve been advocating all this time?”

For several seconds she considered him in silence.

“So, let me get this straight. Instead of simply offering to share a drink with him you’re going to kidnap a criminal and gift wrap him in order to lure Riddler into approaching you?”

Penguin thought over her statement briefly.

“Yes. This way, he can’t reject my advances because he’ll be initiating things.”

“I cannot argue with that sort of logic.” She clapped her hands imperiously, summoning a servant. “Fetch drinks for me and my guest,” she commanded before smiling back at Penguin. “We will drink to your success.”


	2. Chapter 2

Living in Gotham made people a degree more cautious. Being a recognised Rogue living in Gotham heightened that caution to near paranoia. Hence a huge black box tied up with a brilliant white ribbon was not welcomed with open arms.

“You didn’t order anything Boss?”

Riddler cast his eyes skyward. If one of his rats asked him that again he might just throw them into his newly acquired labyrinth. Could they seriously think he might have _forgotten_ ordering something this large?

The only reason he’d told them to drag it inside at all was because, even in this city, a six foot high present would draw attention. Especially in this district. But that didn’t mean he was going to rip it open without some preliminary checks first.

Jostling it hadn’t caused an explosion of any kind so he was relaxed enough to approach it himself now. Not yet sanguine enough to touch it however. He was only too aware of how many ways there were to incapacitate a person through absorbed powders or touching sticky patches of sprayed on toxins. Which was why his newest hireling had been sent up the ladder to examine the bow on top.

“Boss. There’s an envelope up here.”

Riddler bit the edge of his finger nervously. A sure way of making sure any poison reached its intended target was enclosing it in a letter. Yet he couldn’t ignore his growing curiosity. And at least his gloves would provide a measure of protection.

“Pass it down,” he instructed.

Some shuffling later and an expensive envelope was placed in his hands. The ornate, weighty paper made him pause. Was it more or less likely an attacker would utilise such a choice? Was he supposed to assume a toxin would only need a cheap conveyance and this was therefore safe?

Deciding to bite the proverbial bullet he held his breath and ripped open the seal. As nothing immediately happened he proceeded to remove the missive, still anticipating a cloud of dust to puff out. He waited a further few seconds, the letter in one hand, envelope in the other, before going for broke and shaking the paper open.

When this too produced no reaction he finally allowed himself to untense.

The letter was written on paper just as expensive as the envelope and was in an ornate cursive script. Something about it struck him as familiar and he cast a quick glance back up at his present.

“What’s black and white and has very expensive tastes?” he muttered to himself before focusing his eyes onto the text.

_Dear Riddler,_

_As something of a respected patriarchal figure of seniority within our Rogues community, I took it upon myself to act in your absence regarding a matter of propriety. Within the accompanying parcel, you will find an impertinent imposter who had the audacity to style himself ‘Riddler’. Since such an usurping of our modus operandi cannot be tolerated, I arranged for him to be transferred to a place of appropriate punishment – to whit, your establishment. What you do with him now is your concern._

_Your gratitude is all the payment I shall require,_

_Yours,_

_Penguin_   
_736-4846_

Riddler’s eyes lit up and he fixed his intense gaze upon his present once more. Moving over he pressed his hands against it and laid his cheek to the smooth surface.

“What a thoughtful gift!” He laughed delightedly before turning to whisper into the interior. “You are going to regret the day you ever tried to imitate me.”

He spun suddenly back into the room and eyed his confused henchmen.

“You are in luck,” he announced. “I was going to pick one of you to test Catwoman’s catacomb labyrinth but it seems fate has delivered a volunteer for us. We’ll soon see if it was worth the price and whether my modifications work as expected.”

Ignoring the surprised glances between the lesser people in the room he turned back to the parcel and contemplated it. Then he stepped forward and pulled one of the ribbon ends. Immediately the bow unravelled and the sides of the box fell down to reveal a dark haired man, bound and gagged, dressed in an instantly recognisable green suit. Riddler’s eyes widened.

“The effrontery!” he declared before stalking forward and leaning into the man’s personal space. “You have a lot to learn about operating in this city my friend. Lucky for you I am a willing teacher.” He grinned as he backed away, pleased to see fright in the wide eyes of his prisoner.

“Acrostic! Mnemonic!” He cast a backward glance to his two largest men. “Throw this fool into our maze. Let’s see if he can’t puzzle his way out.”

He laughed gleefully as he watched the imposter struggle under the grip of the others before being unceremoniously carried from the room. His laughter died down though as he was left with just the remnant of his box, one nervous henchman and a page of unanswered writing. He bit at his hand again as his eyes roved over the letter.

‘His gratitude’. What did the mountebank miscreant mean by that? You got nothing for nothing, Riddler knew. Was Penguin intending to call in a favour? Such a concept didn’t sit well with him. However he had been left with a phone number. Clearly, whatever the feathered felon had in mind he was willing to talk about it.

He gestured his remaining helper away impatiently.

“Go. Watch with the others to make sure our guest doesn’t escape.” He caught at the man before he could leave. “And if he _does_ survive, I want to know _exactly_ how so I can improve it and throw him back in!”

As he fled with a hasty nod, Riddler turned his attention to the phone, already putting that problem from his mind. He dialled the number and waited.

_“Hello?”_

“Penguin!” Riddler grinned wide even though the bird couldn’t see it.

_“Riddler!”_ The smile was equally clear in Penguin’s tone. _“What a delightful surprise! What can I do for you?”_

“Oh come now. Surely not much of a surprise,” Riddler teased. “You did give me your number after all.”

_“So I did, so I did.”_

Riddler waited to see if he would take the opening to put forward whatever suggestion he had for repayment. Penguin however had fallen silent.

“I appreciated the present,” Riddler prompted. “I would of course have dealt with the situation myself once I had time but this did save me unnecessary exertion.”

_“Glad to help. We can’t have just anyone thinking they can utilise our reputations after all.”_

“Oh absolutely.” Another awkward pause grew and Riddler once again filled the gap. “In fact he’s coming in most useful. I recently purchased a basement labyrinth from Catwoman. I’ve made several improvements and was in need of a guinea pig to test it.”

_“How ingenious.”_

Riddler couldn’t help but preen at the praise but he was getting anxious about finding out Penguin’s expected reparation.

“I trust that additional use for him won’t be featured in your price.”

_“My price?”_

“Don’t play coy with me, my feathered friend. I understand this wasn’t solely for my benefit – you wouldn’t want someone getting the idea to compete as an aquatic fowl I’m sure – but you didn’t need to go to the effort of delivering him to me. You must want something in return. Exactly what sort of gratitude were you after?”

Penguin spluttered.

_“I… It wasn’t… I can assure you…”_

Riddler sighed in frustration.

“Just spit it out. What do you want?”

_“Dinner.”_

The impromptu reply caught Riddler off guard and he found himself blinking stupidly.

“Dinner?” he repeated. Down the phone he heard Penguin sigh.

_“If you are amenable, I would appreciate your company for dinner.”_

Riddler was none-the-less confused.

“Why?”

_“Why?”_ The question clearly baffled Penguin. _“Because I would like to spend an evening with civilised, intelligent company with whom I can discuss plans to get rid of the Bat. Who else am I supposed to ask? Joker?”_

“What about Marsha, Queen of Diamonds? I thought you two were pretty close.”

_“We are,”_ Penguin agreed slowly. _“But I do not… that is to say, your company and hers are very different propositions.”_ He sighed heavily again. _“You asked my price. That is my reply.”_

Riddler bit at his thumb again. In truth he had no objection to an evening with Penguin. The man was undoubtedly the most cordial of all his acquaintances. And if his price truly was so simple, then he’d be a fool to refuse. Conversely, if he was playing a longer game then Riddler needed to play along to find out what it was.

“Very well,” he agreed. “When and where?”


	3. Chapter 3

The restaurant was exclusive and ordinarily the type of place Riddler would be robbing rather than patronising. He wondered how Penguin had managed to not only get admitted but also to do so at such short notice. Whatever leverage he had though it clearly extended to his guest as well since he was greeted most politely and shown in without a flicker or alarm. The clientele gave him more notice but ultimately it was curious rather than intimidated. He found he did not mind so much this evening since his own curiosity was diverted elsewhere.

Penguin rose as his guest was shown to the table and Riddler gave him a cursory once over. At first glance he appeared to be attired much as normal, in his stylish fitted suit complete with top hat and no doubt customised umbrella resting by his chair. However a practised eye could pick out the careful accessorising. There was the lavish tie pin catching the light with a similarly styled brooch upon his lapel. He was sporting an expensive gold monocle to complement the expensive gold fob watch resting in his pocket. It was his eyes that caught Riddler’s attention most though, but he couldn’t pin point why. There was just something about them drawing his gaze.

He tried not to dwell on that as he took his seat and the waiter handed him a menu.

“Would you care to see the wine list?”

The question was directed at Penguin who waved it away imperiously.

“Bring us a bottle of Pinot Grigio,” he instructed.

As the man bowed and left them, Riddler lowered his menu to face his host.

“Swanky joint,” he commented. “How much did it cost you to buy your way in?”

Penguin grinned across at him, seemingly pleased by the enquiry.

“Nothing,” he replied smugly.

Riddler’s surprise at the answer must have been evident if Penguin’s widening grin was any indication.

“I was in a position to assist the resident chef in achieving his current preeminent position. In gratitude there is always a table available for me should I wish to use it.”

Riddler nodded slowly. Unlike many of their contemporaries who were focused on acquiring money for the power it brought, Penguin understood the value on favours and deals. Probably because he always had a source of funds available to him in part due to swinging deals rather than paying his way. It was why Riddler had been so wary of receiving the man’s help. He did however respect the logic behind it.

“And you decided tonight was an appropriate time to use it?”

Penguin cast his gaze down to the cloth and realigned his cutlery.

“Would you have rather I paid out for a table elsewhere? I thought you might appreciate the finer cuisine.”

The waiter returned to their side with a bottle which he showed to Penguin. Riddler watched contemplatively as the man went through the motions of trying and accepting the wine. It was his lashes he decided. The man had unusually long lashes that rested clearly against his cheekbones when he closed his eyes.

“Excellent,” Penguin declared, breaking Riddler’s train of thought.

The waiter nodded gratefully and carefully poured two glasses for them before standing the bottle between them.

“Will you be having your usual Sir?” he asked obediently.

“Yes, thank you.”

Riddler found himself suddenly the focus of their attention and almost flushed as he glanced down to his ignored menu.

“My guest will require more time,” Penguin informed their waiter. Something about the imperious tone grated at Riddler though and he looked up in determination.

“I’ll have the same as Penguin,” he declared.

Penguin’s eyes widened in clear surprise but the waiter simply inclined his head again and went to inform the kitchen of their requests.

“You don’t even know what I’m having.”

“If its good enough for you, my fine feathered friend, its good enough for me.” Riddler smirked.

Penguin ducked his gaze again.

“Oswald,” he commented.

“I beg your pardon?”

Penguin raised his eyes to meet his head on.

“If we’re to have a civilised evening together, perhaps you should call me by my given name. Oswald.”

Riddler blinked and felt as if the ground was shifting under him. He didn’t like not knowing the rules and this whole situation was currently outside his understanding. What was Penguin’s game? The only thing to do was to match the stakes and watch for further clues.

“In that case,” he extended his hand across the table, “Edward Nygma. A pleasure.”

“Oswald Cobblepot.” Penguin smiled at him as he gripped his hand. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

There was something about the look Penguin – Oswald – was levelling at him that Edward couldn’t decipher. Almost as if he’d won some point in their game. It took him a second to realise he was still holding the man’s hand and he released it with an awkward cough.

“So… things have clearly been quiet round here if you’ve had time to monitor other people’s criminal activities.”

“Hhm,” Penguin agreed non-committedly. “Perhaps. I have been taking more of an interest in joining forces of late,” he suggested, delicately laying his napkin across his lap.

“Oh? Might I ask with whom?” He had not meant his question to sound aggressive but the swift glance it earned suggested it had come out harsher than he’d realised.

“Joker coerced me into facilitating one of his ludicrous schemes first. But that gave me the idea to approach Marsha when I needed backing for my own venture.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Penguin was interrupted in his reply by the arrival of their first course. Two dishes were placed before them before their server silently retreated.

“Which scheme did you wish to hear about?” he finally asked as they were left alone again.

“Having been out of town so long I’d be interested in hearing about all the goings on,” Edward answered truthfully. There was no reason he could not use this dinner to his advantage after all. “But start with your own plan. I’m sure it was more carefully orchestrated than the clown’s.”

This brought a pleased flush to Penguin’s cheeks and he took a moment to compose himself by tasting his food.

“I confess I was inspired in part by one of your own schemes.”

“Really?” Riddler couldn’t help but preen slightly. “Which one?”

“That business with the silent movie maker. Van Jones, was it? Do try your prawn cocktail. This place has the best seafood in Gotham.”

Riddler obligingly tried his starter and had to concur with Penguin’s assessment.

“This is good. Did the chef’s specialty have any bearing on your helping him to prominence?”

The apt guess brought a smile to Penguin’s face.

“I do have a partiality for seafood,” he admitted. “But back to your prior enquiry. I realised that setting up a movie company would open all sorts of doors that would otherwise remain closed to me. I even ensnared the Bat into signing an actor’s contract.”

“You had the Bat working for you?” Riddler didn’t try to hide the admiration in his tone and was pleased to see Penguin looked flattered. He knew people feeling over confident often let their guard down and it was easy enough to extend a few compliments Penguin’s way.

“Indeed. Partially I coerced him for Marsha’s benefit – a recompense for her contribution to the business costs – but it also laid him open for a diabolical trap. I’m still not sure how he escaped it,” he muttered under his breath, frowning and spearing more of his food.

Riddler didn’t like that look of consternation and cast around for a distraction.

“Flying it appears like a hankerchief; Landing it appears like a closed fist.”

Penguin looked up with a delighted expression and rested his chin on his hand.

“A bat,” he answered causing his companion to smile broadly at him. “I was curious about your riddles,” he continued hesitantly.

The threatened inquiry put Riddler on guard and he focused his own attention back onto finishing his prawn cocktail.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Penguin continued with determination. “I’ve noticed that your riddles put to the Batman are often… less intellectual than those you employ regularly. Some could even be said to be jokes.” His lip twisted in distaste at the term. “Obviously you make allowance for the Batman’s mental inferiority but he must pose a challenge otherwise he wouldn’t be worth your time.”

Riddler’s face lit up at the thoughtful poser and he pushed his finished dish away so he could lean forward as he explained.

“Naturally the Batman is not truly my equal. He uses his Batcomputer and Boy Wonder for assistance in order to solve my puzzles. Which is why their solutions have to be not complex in themselves but rather more abstract in their interpretation. For example; when is a person like a piece of wood?” He waited expectantly.

“When it’s a ruler,” Penguin dutifully supplied earning a brief nod of approval.

“Easy,” Riddler carried on. “The challenge for Batman isn’t working out that but working out who it refers to. And that requires human ingenuity. A flair for deductions. I seek to stump him with making the connections between the answers and the crimes before its too late.”

“Ingenious,” Penguin praised and for a moment Riddler was caught out by the open admiration. It was so rare in their business and something he very much craved.

Before he could fish for further compliments though the waiter returned and the moment was broken.


	4. Chapter 4

Conversation returned to other criminal capers as the empty bowls were removed and their main dish arrived. Penguin took a moment from his chatter to inhale deeply.

“Simply divine.”

Riddler carefully broke off a piece of the salmon with his fork and tentatively tasted it.

“Mmhhm. That is the best fish I have ever tasted.”

“Wait until you see what the chef can do with a tuna.”

If Penguin was aware that he was implying further engagements he didn’t show it. Riddler however carefully catalogued the response before redirecting the conversation.

“But you were saying, Joker committed his crimes according to the zodiac?”

“Yes. I don’t know how he gets these ideas.”

“Scanning a newspaper I should imagine,” Riddler commented, dipping his new potato into the delicate sauce. “Whereas most of us check the society columns though he gets hooked on the lowest common denominator.”

“While I appreciated his assistance getting out of the penitentiary, I did not appreciate being boxed up for mail. Or stuffed into a laundry bag!”

Riddler couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, his delighted giggles eventually luring his companion out of his indignant snit.

“Much more appropriate for Catwoman don’t you think?” he managed as he calmed down.

“How so?”

“Well everyone knows cats love boxes. And…” His eyes twinkled as he paused for his punchline. “Then Joker could be said to have let the cat out of the bag!”

As Riddler broke down into giggles again, Penguin hushed him affectionately with a roll of his eyes.

“Eddie, that is terrible. Pull yourself together before your food gets cold.”

Ignoring his instruction initially, Riddler found himself fixated on the unusual use of a nickname for him. The realisation that Penguin was relaxed and seemingly enjoying his company helped calm his excess of humour and he drew himself back upright. With his breathing back under control he diligently brought another mouthful of food to his mouth and looked across at his dinner companion.

Penguin made an excellent host. Riddler had recognised that when they’d been part of United Underworld and he’d provided everything they could need for their caper. Now however he saw he could be a considerate friend. Someone willing to share his good fortune for the simple pleasure it brought. It was not an experience Riddler had known before and he found he enjoyed it. The idea that this might be a prelude to a favour no longer sat so well.

But maybe there was no ulterior motive to this evening. Just pleasant food and pleasant company. How often did any of them get to enjoy an evening out after all? Even Penguin who was partially accepted amongst the well-to-do. As he’d told him before, who else did he have who he could truly be himself with? And wasn’t that true of Riddler himself? Who else could he engage with in such an easy manner?

“I can fill a room or just one heart. Others may have me but I cannot be shared. What am I?”

Penguin froze with his hand suspended halfway between his plate and lips. In truth, Riddler had not meant to say that out loud but sometimes he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m not sure I…” A frown creased Penguin’s brow as his mind turned over the words. “Silence?”

“That’s a very good answer.” Riddler pointed his fork emphatically. “I will accept that answer.” He dove back into his fillet with determination. Penguin however wasn’t fooled.

“If it’s a good answer it isn’t the _right_ answer.” He drummed his fingers irritably. “Let me think…”

“No need-”

“No. Don’t tell me. Not silence but… loneliness?”

Riddler’s silence was confirmation enough and Penguin couldn’t stop the hurt look crossing his face.

“You think I’m a lonely old fool who has to bribe friends to dinner?”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know I could have asked any number of people to join me tonight.”

“Of course.”

“Marsha or Lulu have often been my guests. I receive frequent invites to society gatherings. I’m even on first names basis with-”

“Oswald.” Riddler reached across and seized the hand not still holding the fork in a death grip. “I’m grateful for the invitation. You’re not the only one who wants different company now and then. Closer company,” he suggested.

He kept his hand on Penguin’s and watched the emotions flicker across his expressive face until finally the man lowered his own gaze to their hands. The blush on his cheeks was unmistakeable and suddenly the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Riddler was aware their contretemps had drawn attention and he should probably withdraw but he didn’t want to hurt Oswald’s feelings further. The man had been nothing but kind to him thus far and that was a commodity not often found in Gotham. Besides, he was not adverse to exploring this revelation further.

The hand under his shifted over and fingers curled gingerly around his palm, squeezing gently. Riddler trusted the gesture was concealed by the table decorations and pressed his own fingers in response.

“Now.” he coughed slightly and softly drew back his hand. “Let’s finish this meal because I for one am looking forward to dessert.”

Penguin coughed quietly too as he rearranged his own hands.

“I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth Eddie.”

“When the mood takes me,” Riddler offered with a smile before teasing. “My tastes run different ways. Sometimes sweet, sometimes savoury. Some days I simply crave salty treats.”

“I confess I do like snacks,” Penguin admitted with a coy glance. “Perhaps that’s something else we have in common?”

“Maybe.” Riddler slowly chewed a bite of fish. “Do you cook much Oswald?”

“I’m afraid not. I tend to buy what I want.”

The reply sent a shiver down Riddler’s spine and he deliberately licked the sauce from his fork.

“I’m quite a competent chef, if I do say so myself.”

“Really? What may I ask are your specialties?”

“Oh I don’t know.” He thoughtfully swirled another piece of potato through the drizzle on his plate. “But I think you’d be surprised what I can do with a piece of fruit.”

Oswald nearly choked on his own mouthful and Riddler glanced up anxiously. The other man heaved in a deep breath and met his eyes head on though.

“That sounds very interesting Mister Nygma.”

“I’d be happy to demonstrate Mister Cobblepot.”

“How are you doing with your meal?”

Riddler glanced at his plate. Truthfully he’d be happy to leave now, despite the mouth-watering meal still left, but he suspected Oswald would take offence at that. And he wasn’t beyond playing a longer game for greater rewards.

“I am enjoying every delectable mouthful,” he answered, once more spearing some salmon and lifting it to press against his lips. Penguin watched avidly, his own food momentarily forgotten, as Riddler made a show of slipping the food in, using his tongue to guide it.

Then Riddler upped the ante and brushed his foot across the other man’s ankle. Never let it be said he couldn’t be direct when necessary.

The action made Penguin jump and he flushed beautifully before focusing his attention back on his own plate.

“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered.

“Would you want me any other way?”

Oswald looked up again, dark eyes shining under lush lashes.

“No,” he replied simply, before returning his attention diligently to his food. Riddler doubted the other man tasted any of it but that didn’t worry him. He joyfully demolished his own dish, happy in the knowledge of a riddle solved to his satisfaction.

To his immense satisfaction if he were honest. Edward had never questioned his desire for either sex but accepted it was generally safer to only indulge that of a female persuasion. Receiving such an invite from a man such as Penguin though was something of a heady delight. This was a man who could actually match him, wit for wit, con for con. Added to which he offered the security of wealth that would lend their liaison a degree of safety.

As Oswald locked eyes with him again, he felt a frisson of excitement. It certainly didn’t hurt that the man had an air of authority and a presence that sent tendrils of excitement through his stomach. He knew he could break that dignity and he looked forward to doing so.

“Are you finished?” Penguin enquired.

“I haven’t even started.” Riddler grinned devilishly and pushed his plate away.

Opposite him Penguin stood and reached for his wallet, pulling out a few bills and leaving them on the table. Almost immediately their waiter was at their side.

“Sir? Was everything alright? Do you not want your Arctic roll?”

“No.” Penguin hardly glanced at him as he watched Riddler unfold himself from his chair. “We’re having dessert at home.”

“We’re having fruit salad,” Riddler added with another grin.

The waiter dutifully kept silent as Penguin shooed Riddler ahead of him, turning only once to press another bill into the man’s hand.

“For your excellent service,” he suggested.

“Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” He quickly pocketed the note and promptly wiped all recollection of their dining from his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Oswald woke up feeling pleasantly warm and pleasantly sore. The blissful bubble burst almost immediately though as a wave of panic crashed through him. Edward would undoubtedly leave now that he’d had his fun. If Oswald was lucky he might have the courtesy not to mention it again. That would drive shards of glass into his heart of course but must be preferable to the alternative of being denounced and shamed in front of his peers.

If only he’d had the will power to resist his flirtatious behaviour! He should have kept things friendly, or better yet formal, then he might have stood a chance of repeat dates. Now he was sure to be cast aside with only the memory of the night to console him.

The night had been most glorious though. His anticipation about the Riddler had proved well founded. And if he was only to have one night to indulge then at least he could rest assured he’d taken full advantage of it.

A hand slinking across his ample waist drew him out of his fracturing thoughts.

“Morning my magnificent macaroni.”

“Macaroni?” He couldn’t help but snort as he glanced over his shoulder to look fondly at the sleepy man sharing his bed.

“It’s a type of penguin,” Edward muttered, placing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Its early and I’m tired. Probably due to _somebody_ keeping me up half the night.”

Oswald turned his head away as a blush stole over his cheeks.

“I can’t fault you for your alliteration, I suppose.”

“Hhmm, I should hope not.” He started placing more kisses along Oswald’s shoulder blades. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’m not _complaining_ about last night. In fact… I’d be quite happy to pick up where we left off.”

The hand on Oswald’s stomach began to drift determinedly downwards. His breath hitched briefly before he caught it and lifted it off him, taking the opportunity to create a little distance between them.

“I… don’t think I can do this again Edward.”

“Aww.” Edward shuffled closer again. “Did I wear you out?”

“No! Well…” He quickly regrouped. “That’s not what I meant.” Oswald finally gave in and rolled to face him.

Riddler had a faintly amused look on his face but that faded on seeing Penguin’s countenance.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Despite facing him Oswald couldn’t bring himself to maintain eye contact. “Its just I think it would be better all round if you left now rather than after… further activities.”

Riddler drew away with a puzzled expression.

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No! No. I don’t want you to leave. I just…” He ran a frustrated hand through his dishevelled hair and gave up facing Eddie entirely by rolling onto his back. “You’re going to be leaving either way,” he huffed. “I’d find it easier if you made it a swift exit.”

A long thoughtful silence met this statement and Oswald lay tense and unhappy while he awaited Riddler’s compliance. Of course Riddler never did make things easy.

“Let me see if I understand you right.” He propped himself up on an elbow so he could look down at Oswald. “You believe this was just a one night affair and don’t want to complicate things by prolonging the morning after?”

“Its not a case of not wanting to complicate things. I’d happily complicate things if brought you back to my bed. But you can’t tell me this meant as much to you as it did to me.”

The challenging statement threw Riddler and he took a moment to look, really look, at Oswald. The man was glaring at him defiantly but beneath that was a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. It suddenly occurred to him that Oswald probably had more feelings for him than the simple lust he had supposed. And that changed things.

“I admit,” he began hesitantly, “that I hadn’t really thought about this in any terms other than a bit of fun.”

“Well then,” Oswald huffed, turning his sharp gaze away.

“But that’s not to say I’m opposed to thinking about making this a more steady arrangement.”

A suspicious look was cast upon him and he hastened to explain.

“I like you Oswald. You’re good company and a man of intelligence. You’re also a great deal of fun in bed.” He grinned wickedly before his expression turned fond. “I’d be willing to date you. See how things go. I’ve a feeling it could be good.” His risked stroking a hand over the shoulder nearest to him.

“I know it could be,” Oswald murmured, his eyes ducking down bashfully. “You probably realise by now that I like you too. More than like you if we’re being honest. I’d very much like to take you out again.”

“Then we’ll do that.” Edward swooped in quickly to seal the deal with a kiss. “A proper courtship for a proper gentleman.”

“I may be a gentleman,” Oswald retorted with a teasing smile, “but you sir certainly are not.”

Riddler laid a hand over his heart dramatically.

“You wound me! How could you accuse me of being any less than a perfect gentleman?”

“I might cite some of your behaviours from last night.” Oswald rolled closer once more and Riddler allowed himself to smirk.

“I don’t recall you complaining at the time.”

“Tsk. I never said I _disliked_ you being less than a gentleman.” Oswald ran his own hand up Edward’s arm, his expression turning thoughtful. “I wish I could show you off publically. No man could have a finer companion to dazzle the dullards of society.”

Edward positively preened at the praise.

“We are criminals,” he reminded Penguin. “It might be fun to see their faces if we flaunted our relationship.”

The term had the desired effect and he saw the pleased flush that it provoked.

“We are criminals of standards though. Its one thing to be arrested for grand theft, another for public indecency.”

Riddler tilted his head side to side as he considered it.

“Besides,” Oswald continued. “I think I’d quite like to keep you to myself for a while.”

“Ooh, possessive aren’t we? Tell me Oswald, are you a jealous lover?”

The flash in his eyes was answer enough for Riddler but Penguin still replied.

“Very. I may well forget myself if I see you with someone else. I…” He stopped himself and cast his glance aside. “I’d like us to be exclusive. If you’re amenable.”

“I didn’t figure you were the settling down type,” Edward offered, avoiding answering as he pondered the serious nature of the request. He knew himself well and recognised he was prone to attention seeking. Whether that be from flattering admirers or a jealous lover was equally appreciated. And it seemed he might be set up to be able to receive both in his immediate future.

“I’ve never considered marriage,” Oswald admitted. “If that’s what you mean. For obvious enough reasons, as I hope were made plain last night.” His salacious expression turned thoughtful. “Which isn’t to say I can’t see the material benefits. Did I ever tell you about the time I got engaged to an heiress so I could make off with the wedding gifts?”

Somewhat to Riddler’s surprise he found himself experiencing a surge of jealousy.

“No, you did not.”

“Hhmm. I ran out with the loot before she could tighten the knot of course but perhaps the idea had some merit-”

Riddler shuffled intimately closer and bit at his ear. “I don’t want to hear about you with anyone else right now.”

Penguin grinned delightedly back at him.

“Who’s jealous now?” he teased playfully.

“Its not jealousy,” Riddler said as seriously as he could.

“So it wouldn’t upset you if say I bound myself to the commissioner’s daughter?”

“The commissioner’s daughter? You’d never get her to marry you!”

“I could too!” Penguin pulled away with a wounded look. “If you think I’m such a booby you don’t have to stay.”

Riddler quickly caught his arms about his retreating lover.

“Now I didn’t say that did I? I only meant that she’s a lawman’s daughter and you’re an arch criminal.” He leant forward to whisper in his ear. “A diabolically devious devil.”

An unmistakeable shiver ran down Penguin’s spine.

“Besides my little bird,” Edward continued. “I thought you didn’t want to turn this into a cat and mouse game?”

“Not so little,” Oswald countered before looking at him thoughtfully. “Would you try to catch me if I did?”

“You know me,” Riddler purred. “I can’t resist a game. Especially one with such an alluring prize.”

Oswald surged forward immediately to claim Eddie’s mouth and Edward rolled them to allow Penguin on top of him to demonstrate his appreciation more easily. Already he could envisage their alliance building into something indestructible. Because he truly had never met anyone so rich in all aspects he looked for in a partner than Oswald.

For now though, he would just settle in to a morning’s pleasure because they’d only scraped the tip of the iceberg last night and he had many activities he wished to experience. He smiled smugly as he thought of all the things they might do together.

Yes, he would happily invest in a long term relationship with this bewitching bird for a chance to experience such delights. And he had no doubt that he would love him more every step of the way.


End file.
